


No Matter What, I'm Still Thinking of You

by holydivers



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Cutting, Other, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Social Media, Suicidal Thoughts, based on what I'm going through, dunno if this will be continued, events after michael in the bathroom, i was typing this while crying shjdbdn, little to no dialogue, michael in the bathroom crying, probably, self projecting onto michael oops, the other one is based off of a recent experience, this is just sad man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 07:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12978726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holydivers/pseuds/holydivers
Summary: Probably a collection of self projection stories that are based on experiences happening right now with me. It's all probably bad or ooc, but whatever. I hope it's kind of enjoyable (as in people read it and don't hate it). Hooray for depression





	1. Bathroom and a Fire

Michael watched as his now former best friend, Jeremy, walk out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. His fists clenched at his sides as he sat down on the floor.

His best friend of about 12 years, who he's shared beds with, games with, clothes with, and food with, basically just fucking dumped him. It was worse than a boyfriend/girlfriend breaking up. Michael's chest tightened and his vision became misty, soon breaking down into sobs and coughing. He didn't know what he did wrong. He tried so hard to be there for Jeremy when he bought the SQUIP, but Jeremy kept pushing Michael away. Always blowing him off for Chloe, Brooke, or even Rich. When did he even start hanging out with Rich???

The darker skinned teen took off his glasses and wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his CREEPS sweater. He wanted to bash his head into the faucet and die right there or drown himself in the bathtub. No one would care if he was gone now. He had nobody. His somebody left him alone forever and didn't even hesitate to drop Michael off the face of his world.

Michael sniveled, chewing on his lower lip with his eyes now closed. There was banging on the door here and there, sometimes a jangle of someone trying to open the door but giving up since it was locked. There were other bathrooms, so Michael didn't care.

His vision faded slightly until he was staring at the dark wall, his mind trying to conjure up any sort of happy memory with Jeremy. He loved when they played video games together like DOOM,  
Mario Kart 64, or even Mortal Kombat that always made Jeremy mad because he sucked at fighting games against Michael. The thoughts made him happy and made him feel like in a better place than a cold, echoey bathroom at a Halloween party he wasn't even invited to.

Michael was unpleasantly snapped back into reality when he heard Rich screaming, which he knew something was wrong. It wasn't the Fun Teenage Party screaming, it was like a Cry For Help screaming. Something about Mountain Dew Red and a fire. 

Fire. ....Fire?

It wasn't long until screams were chiming in and rushes of footsteps were heard from outside the door. There was a fire and it didn't sound like a small one.

Michael immediately jolted up and unlocked the bathroom door, but didn't open it. There was a window in here he can use to escape, and soon some others will follow in his footsteps. The short teen ran over to the window, fidgeting to open the lock on it before it busted open. He leaped out and fell onto the cold grass outside. It smelled heavy like smoke and he was a bit dazed from falling, but managed to scramble onto his feet and run. Run like his life depended on it.

Once far away enough, Michael caught his breath, kneeling down on the cement of the sidewalk. He could see the blaze from the house brightening up and the sound of sirens was near. He needed to text someone about this.

He whipped out his phone, immediately going to Jeremy's contact-

Jeremy.

Michael had forgotten all about their incident. Fuck. He backed out and texted his mother instead, sighing and wiping his forehead from sweat.

Even though they did fight, he really hoped Jeremy was okay. He didn't want anything bad happening to him, even if they weren't friends anymore.

That's still Michael's player one even if he quit the game.


	2. No One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snapchat and recent falling outs don't mix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch.....

Everyday, Jeremy and Michael drift farther apart ever since the SQUIP invaded Jeremy's body. He's tried texting the taller teen to hang out before the end of last period, grab a few slushies and Combos bags from Seven Eleven, and chill out in his basement. Michael ever got like, one text back or just flat out ignored. It hurt. A lot. Too much. They were best friends! This wasn't fucking fair.  
So there sat Michael. Alone. In his basement. One of Childish Gambino's songs blasting loudly in his white headphones he bought at a GameStop a few years ago, they still surprisingly work. He scrolled through his phone, leaning back in an old beanbag chair. It had duct tape on certain parts that were ripped.

Michael opened up his snapchat, looking at himself in the camera and trying out the new daily filters. He smiled a little and even giggled at some of the stupid ones that made his eyes into his mouth or placed his face onto a meerkat. He happily sighed and went onto the recent stories. He had added a lot of people in school who wrote their usernames in the bathroom stalls or just quick added him. Some were internet friends that he made in World of Warcraft and Instagram, etc.  
Skipping through a few stories, he saw Jeremy had uploaded to his. He was hanging out with Brooke at her house, sitting together on her couch and grinning at the camera.

Michael's heart fucking dropped. He had texted Jeremy today and asked to hang out just once and all he got was "Maybe, I'm pretty sure I can :)" He lied. He fucking lied. The darker teen threw his phone onto the ground, not caring if it cracked or even broke. 

There were so many emotions pouring into his brain. Jealousy, loneliness, and then intrusive thoughts. He couldn't handle it all and stayed in his seat, sobbing into his hoodie sleeves. He fucking hated his emotions. 

Michael sniffled and rubbed his eyes, getting up and going into the spare bathroom that was on the right. He hid a bunch of razor blades in one of the drawers so his mother wouldn't find them and dispose of them. Again. Rolling up his sleeve, revealing scars upon scars on his arm and wrist, he just went at it. Slashing lines all over his skin, the blood trickled up and then out, staining his hoodie. It didn't matter since they were about the same color. 

Michael held his arm in pain, hissing at the burning sensation. He grabbed a washcloth and put it under running water from the faucet, wiping the blood away. There were so many lines but he managed to cover them up with enough bandaids. He felt so ashamed and embarrassed for not knowing how to control his emotions, tears pouring out of his eyes again. 

This always happened. Every time his emotions were too much to handle, he cut himself. It's been like this since seventh grade, it wasn't a problem until he was caught cutting his bicep in the boy's bathroom during tenth grade. It was awful. Everyone probably found out and secretly mock him for being a self-harmer. 

Cheeks burning, the darker teen slid down onto the cold floor, sobbing. He figured to have a hot shower later so it would really clean him up. Maybe wash away his sins and pain. Wash away the disgusting, intrusive thoughts that invaded every day. He felt horrible. Terrible. Scummy. A failure. An awful friend and son. He wanted to die right then and there, but he kept pushing himself on for Jeremy's sake even if they weren't as good of friends anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't hate me for this shndbdnb these are my first works I'm ever posting


End file.
